


Colloquialisms

by SpaceWeeb



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Anxiety, Bordeline Anxiety Attack, Chronic Illness, Fluff and Angst, Fluff without Plot, Languages and Linguistics, Linguistic silliness, M/M, People Pleasing, So many kisses, Trying to look like you're perfect and respectable but it involves changing yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22840885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceWeeb/pseuds/SpaceWeeb
Summary: They're tired. And sometimes when you're tired, things you've been holding back your entire life come through. But, on the plus side, you discover your boyfriend doesn't mind at all. In fact, he finds it absolutely adorable.TW for Chronic Illness, Anxiety, and an Anxiety Attack that gets redirected before it gets too bad. There's also human curse words thrown in, but not many.Blame Paraqueets/Bruni over on Twitter for this existing. I had no control over my monkey brain and hands once she started talking about Thunderclash with an accent!
Relationships: Rodimus/Thunderclash
Comments: 15
Kudos: 56





	Colloquialisms

Thunderclash is first to break their thick, comfortable silence.

Engine kicking up a gear, then settling back into an idle, he stretches, languid, but surprisingly careful of the red speeder curled up to his side. 

Already, he can feel his joints beginning their nightly lock up. If they stayed here, curled up on the couch together, he knew it would take even longer to get up in the morning than it did on a bad day. And, while neither of them had an early shift, he didn’t want to fight his frame any more than he already had to. He also didn’t want to risk trapping Rodimus in his arms, even if Rodimus himself would have found it absolutely hilarious.

Eventually, he presses a soft kiss to his partner’s helm.

“Y’ mind budging up a bit, Rodi? I’ll carry you to berth but you gotta scoot your boot first.”

Rodimus blinks, shaking off the stupor of recharge and slowly rising from his relaxed slump against Thunderclash’s side to stare at him incredulously. 

Either his audio input had glitched, or he was hearing things, because the words? The words that had just left his boyfriend’s vocalizer were so completely  _ not _ Thunderclash it was either that, or Thunderclash  _ himself _ was glitching, and honestly, he would rather it be him than Thunders at this point. Primus knew the mech had enough problems with his spark to have to deal with more affecting his ability to speak.

But no. 

It couldn’t have been his audios. There was no way. 

Ratchet had  _ just _ given him a complete diagnostics and physical barely three solar cycles ago. Short of slipping off an asteroid and crashing into the planet below, or another ‘completely-accidental-I-swear!!!’ collision of Tailgate’s hoverboard and his face, he wouldn’t need them checked for at  _ least _ five months.

So, he replays it on his HUD.

And then he runs his  _ own _ diagnostic program, because honestly who  _ wouldn’t _ have after hearing  _ that _ come out of  _ Thunderclash’s _ mouth.  _ Thunderclash! _ The Autobot  _ everyone _ admired as a pinnacle of refinement and class! Thunderclash: the Greatest Autobot of All Time! Speaking with an accent so ridiculous if he hadn’t been half asleep and getting ready to go out of his mind with worry, he would have burst into laughter.

“What?” is the only word he can force out.

Lifting his arm away from the other mech and shifting as far away as the arm of the couch will allow, Thunderclash puts on a dumb smile, as if he had no idea what Rodimus was freaking out about. 

Despite all the many things Thunderclash was rumored to be good at, he was notoriously bad at hiding his feelings. Several million years of failure was more than enough to prove that. 

Still, he could hope. There was always hope. Hope that Rodimus wouldn’t notice him pulling his EMF in tight to his plating. Hope he wouldn’t notice the surprise and shame that flashed in his optics. And above all, hope beyond hope that he hadn’t heard the horrible accent in his voice and the colloquialisms in his words.

“We should go lay down?”

From the frown on Rodimus’ face, it seemed hope had failed him. Again. He looks away.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. The hell did you just say.”

Thunderclash’s field flares before he can stop it.

It’s the first hint the red mech has that this isn’t a glitch. Usually, Thunderclash handled his glitches with suave deflection, self deprecating jokes, amused resignation, or a concerning mix of all three. This? This hit like a punch in the spark.

Shifting his frame to sit in the big mech’s lap, Rodimus lifts his hands and gently takes his golden face in them. 

“Thunders?”

He flinches at the touch, but doesn’t pull away. Instead he forces himself still. Forces his vents to stay even, denies the alert from his systems to let his fans turn on and cool systems that were beginning to become taxed. Forcing his frame not to tremble despite the flashes of anxiety roiling through his spark and chassis. Unconsciously, his own hands move towards Rodimus’ shoulder pauldrons, to pull him close or pick him up and set him on the floor, even Thunderclash didn't know in the moment. He stops them half way.

If Rodimus hadn’t noticed him trying not to tremble, he would the moment he touched him. And that was the last thing he needed right now. Especially when his fans kicked on in spite of his overrides and it became painfully obvious he was barrelling towards an anxiety attack.

“HEY Thundercla-”

“Promise?”

Magenta optics flash to Rodi’s, finally, and the sharp light of panic in them cuts Rodimus’ voice off as much as the quiet, desperate plea.

“Promise you won’t make fun of me? Won’t think I’m an- an idiot?”

“Of course. I promise.”

Rodimus wraps his arms around his partner and tucks his face safely into the crook of his neck. In return, Thunderclash gives in, wrapping Rodi in shaking arms and taking a huge invent, trying to steady himself.

“I’m from Hyperious.”

For a long while, that seems to be all Thunderclash can get out.

Which isn’t a small thing in and of itself. Sure, literally anyone could have looked him up in the Autopedia and seen ‘of Hyperious’ next to his name. But even with the caste system dead and gone, a mech’s home city could still be a touchy subject.

Exhibit A? Rodimus and Nyon.

While not some place of absolute supreme importance, like Iacon, or Kaon, Hyperious still stood out in the history of the war and Cybertron as a whole. Given its history as a major hub of industry, it was up there with cities like the Tagan Heights in terms of important places for either faction to be in control of.

It hadn’t exactly met the best fate in the end. Bombed, torn apart, and left empty until the Reformatting, when it disappeared like much of the rest of Cybertron’s old cities. 

But, there had to be more to it than that. Rodimus knew Thunderclash too well to think he’d be ashamed of his place of origin. Not when he comforted anyone feeling down about their own home city or state or caste and, by extension their worth, that where they came from didn’t matter, only what they did with their life. He was too frustratingly, refreshingly honest to double-speak like that.

“And?” The prompt is gentle. Even more gentle than his hand caressing the broad blue planes of Thunderclash’s helm fins.

“And… and sometimes, when I’m upset, or tired, or- or not paying attention, I… My glossa slips and the accent comes out.”

Ah.

The other thing Hyperious had been known for. Its ‘peculiar’ dialect and accent of Neocybex. Something that had frustrated both the Council and the Functionalists in their attempts to have a unified language for a unified planet.

Which really? Was one of the dumbest things they had ever tried to tackle. He was in no way, shape, or form a linguist, but even as  _ Hot Rod _ , Rodimus could have told them that was an exercise in futility. You didn’t have to speak like one to be one in mind and purpose.

All you had to do to come to that conclusion was watch Brainstorm and Perceptor work their magic in their lab.

Rodimus couldn’t help but laugh at that thought. 

It started out as a soft chuckle, but quickly became great, chassis-shaking giggles of relief.

Thunderclash’s engines stalled out and for a moment, he felt like he was going to pass out. Or maybe purge. Or even worse, maybe purge and  _ then _ pass out. It passed, however, when the giggling mess of a mech in his arms leans up and kisses him on the cheek.

“That’s all? You have an accent?” The pure, unadulterated relief in his field is almost intoxicating and Thunderclash, confused beyond the ability to speak, can’t help but relax just the slightest bit.

“Primus, I was afraid something had broken in your  _ brain _ or something!’

“You don’t think it sounds stupid?”

“I mean it  _ does _ sound kinda ridiculous?” When Thunderclash’s face falls, he continues quickly, “The good kind of ridiculous! Like,” He gestures shallowly, as if trying to find the right words. “It suits you? It fits well with the regular ridiculousness of you, the real you, the ridiculousness that’s one of the  _ many _ reasons I fell in love with you. It’s a good ridiculous. And ridiculously cute.”

“Cute?”

“Yeah, you doofus. Cute. Just like you.”

Thunderclash is still hesitant, but this time, he doesn’t look away.

“No one’s… No one’s ever called it cute before. Atrocious, disgraceful, ‘not suitable for someone like you,’ but never cute.”

Oh. 

_ Oh. _

He’d been ridiculed for slipping, then. 

It was beginning to make sense. And it made Rodi want to smack his face for being so goddamn blind.

Because of course, going from a place where everyone was part of an industrial caste, to the College, and on to the Primal fucking Vanguard, he’d meet mechs who would think themselves better than him and tear him down for not fitting into their image. For not being (ugh) ‘ _ Heroic enough’ _ And if Rodimus had learned anything about his intended, it was that, on top of being an absolute  _ nerd _ and an idiot (in a good way! The way that made you exasperatedly fond of him), he was kind and gentle and genuine and terribly, terribly sensitive to any perceived failings on his part. Ridicule for something like that, something most mechs couldn’t control or even recognize in themselves, and being told it somehow made him less than what he was supposed to be? It had probably broken his spark.

And for that, if nothing else, Rodimus would never forgive Old Cybertron.

“Well,’ He huffed, pushing himself off of his brightly colored boyfriend just far enough to give him another kiss, “ _ I _ think it’s cute, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

“You don’t?”

For the first time since he slipped, it seemed like Thunderclash was beginning to hear him. And while he might not be able to fully  _ believe _ the words just yet, he could tell they were finally beginning to sink in. 

“Thunderclash, I’m from fucking  _ Nyon _ ,” Rodi laughs, field tangling with the larger mech’s and easing the remaining anxiety from it, and nuzzling the last visual traces of it off his face. “Why should I care where you’re from? Or if you have an accent. Besides, I’m pretty sure Nautica told me  _ everyone _ has an accent.”

“She did.” Thunderclash chuckles- finally!- fans whirring to a stop as he echoed back strut-deep relief and returning one of the many kisses he’d received from Rodimus. “I remember that. Blaster had said she and Velocity had weird accents, and you chimed in and said that made sense since they were from an entirely different planet. And then she mentioned that technically everyone has an accent.”

“Right! And then Velocity sassed him back and told him to Camiens,  _ his _ accent was weird!”

“Good old Velocity,” he laughs.

“I’m pretty sure we’re both  _ way _ older than her.”

“Oh, we definitely are.”

They both dissolved into giggles.

“Anyway, ANYway,” Rodimus shakes his head, patting Thunderclash’s chest with a grin, “I think I got the gist of what you meant? You wanted me to move over so you could get up and we could go sleep on the berth. So! Moving over.”

As he was about to vault himself off Thunderclash’s lap and onto the floor, two large servos pull him back in. Around him, the room seems to shake, but he doesn’t end up on the floor. Instead, he finds himself cradled in the larger mech’s strong arms.

“Almost,” Thunders laughs, kissing his disoriented boyfriend’s crest. “I’m fairly certain the only part of what I said that wasn’t some sort of colloquialism was that I was going to  _ carry _ you to berth. And carry you I will.”

Crossing the expanse of their floor in three big steps, and somehow managing to avoid stepping on any of the goodie crumbs they’d thrown at each other while watching  _ Robocop _ earlier that evening, Thunderclash ever so gently and daintily set Rodimus on their shared berth.

“My hero~” He makes a horribly exaggerated kissy face at the big mech, who just laughs and pushes him away.

“Oh hush.”

While he’d missed it when Thunderclash picked him up, it was much easier to notice the creak of stubborn joints when the mech carefully climbed into berth and rolled over next to him. They sounded bad, worse than normal. Between the movie and almost falling asleep, they’d been still for too long. So, when Rodi climbed onto him and stretched out on his wide white chestplates, he kick his internal temperature up a few degrees higher than usual.

“You ok?”

“‘M fine,” He murmurs, hands coming up to rest on Rodimus’ back. “Just knackered.  _ Tired _ .”

“Still cute though,” Rodimus teases, leaning up to kiss him before any anxiety can seep into his spark. Chestplates to chestplates like this, he can feel the rumble of Thunderclash’s engine as he chuckles, and it warms his frame.

“If you say so, you’re probably right. Goodnight, star fire.”

“‘Night, Blundercrash.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hyperious is a city mentioned in the Wings universe, which happens to be the same universe where Thunderclash has that silly accent, so I figured what better way to nod to that then by making him from a city only mentioned in that universe XP


End file.
